I'm not the one to complain of bad dreams, it’s like disease, but without a life. It's all a scene with this great directive that we're all lost and we're stuck in time. We feel alone in a strange blue ocean and we're all scared as death to die.
I'm not the one to admit it's helpless, I have a sense that we will be alright. I wish for peace with electric silence, to keep our hearts beating on our minds. And we will see that we're all connected when we awake to the tunnel's light.
(Suit up, boys we’re on vacation with endless stay and reservations. Saddest girls who will await while dying inside, how will they get by?)
(Suit up, boys let’s ride, it's the weekend. Get down, girls and dance with your best friend. Show yourselves, and take what you ask for. Let it go, no fights on the dance floor).
The night gets better, but wait, so wonderful, they move together and dance so colorful and kiss like flowers that breathe with pheromone, songs get louder, it feels so natural.
“I’d forgotten how enlivening it could feel, seeing clearly and far. Aridity frees light. It also unleashes grandeur. The earth here wasn’t cloaked in forest, nor draped in green. Green was pastoral, peaceful, mild. Desert beauty was “sublime” in the way that the romantic poets had used the word- not peaceful dales but rugged mountain faces, not reassuring but daunting nature, the earth’s skin and haunches, its spines and angles arching prehistorically in sunlight.”